


Remus Isn't Special

by BluBerd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And also some feels, Feels, Fluff, M/M, No really SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluBerd/pseuds/BluBerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius kisses everyone, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remus Isn't Special

The only good thing about waking up alone is not having to deal with someone else’s morning breath. Besides that, it’s pretty much a lost cause. Remus always wakes up cold and wishing his bed were smaller so that it might not seem quite so empty. This particular morning he is also lucky enough to wake up to find that a certain part of his anatomy has already been up (pun very much intended) for quite some time.

Upon failing to hear the telltale sounds of stirring from the other occupants of the room, he walks (carefully) to the shower, stifling a curse when the frigid water hits.

It’s going to be a complete loss of a day. He can already tell.

When he steps, shivering, back into the dorm with a towel low-slung around his hips, Sirius gives him a knowing smirk from where he sits sleepily in his bed that never seems as empty as Remus’ does, even when Sirius is the only one in it.

“Don’t know why you don’t just have a wank like the rest of us.”

The statement is too common to elicit embarrassment, anymore.

“I don’t have to defend my masturbatory habits to you.”

Sirius chuckles and falls back onto the mattress with a _whump_.

“It just doesn’t seem healthy to me, is all.”

Remus smiles to himself as he sets about putting out his clothes and replies, “I’m quite healthy, thank you,” which is mostly true.

A scoff sounds from Sirius’ bed. “Looks to me like your bones could use a little more meat,” the leer preceding the addendum is practically audible. “The _rest_ of you, too.”

The hairs on the back of Remus’ neck prickle with the sudden awareness that he is being watched.

It’s nothing to get worked up over, really. It would be stranger if Sirius weren’t looking at him during a conversation. Even though he’s getting dressed. It wouldn’t matter if it were James or Peter, and it’s a _problem_ that it feels different with him. More intimate.

But he doesn’t want to make it awkward by saying anything about it. Instead, he responds with the typical Marauder snark as he pulls his shirt over his head. “You offering?”

“You know it.”

Remus glances over at him just in time to catch the kissy-face.

“Do shut it. Your flirting is making it hard to sleep.”

That would be Peter. James is a much heavier sleeper and on the other side of the room, besides.

“You know we’d let you join us, Pete. No reason to be jealous,” Sirius offers as Remus shimmies into his pants and trousers.

“Not jealous. Just sleepy. Sexy times later. Mornings are for not being awake.”

“Oh, how wrong you are, Peter.”

Sirius jumps out from under his sheets, vaults over Remus’ bed, lands on the lump that is Peter Pettigrew trying to sleep, and begins making exaggerated sex noises and enthusiastically humping what is probably Peter’s leg.

Peter lets out a yelp and demands that Sirius “sod off” while Remus looks on bemused.

It isn’t weird when Sirius manages to plant a sloppy, wet kiss on Peter’s fat cheek.

This is Sirius, after all. Sirius kisses everyone.

* * *

Gryffindor celebrations are notoriously grand. Remus assumes that this is because the defining characteristics of a Gryffindor are bravery and chivalry, and it isn’t rare that the chivalry is in short supply. Basically, no one is afraid to snatch a few extra bottles of firewhiskey or really just _go for it_ with that bird they’ve been chasing for however long.

Sirius just goes around making a grand spectacle of himself. He is the life of the party, kissing everyone who gets close enough, goosing anyone just out of that range, doing body shots off of tipsy Ravenclaws. He’s the life of the party.

He always is.

Remus, however, is not.

The whole thing is generally a bit much for him. Overstimulation, if you will. He’s of the sort who would rather be off somewhere quiet where he can read a book than be stuck in the middle of everything. It’s just difficult to escape when your best friends are the ones who organized all of it, because then they end up slinging an arm around your shoulder or trying to introduce you to someone just as you’re about to make your getaway.

Or, in Sirius’ case, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you onto a couch with him as he attacks your neck in a way that is _definitely_ going to leave a mark, tomorrow.

Remus plays along, laughing and squirming to get away. “Stop that you utter git!”

He squeals indignantly in a fashion that is probably not very manly when Sirius actually has the gall to _bite_ him in response.

“Sirius Black did you just bite me?”

“Can’t help it, Moony. You’re just so yummy.”

“I bet James is yummy, too?”

“James? Really?”

Remus can feel the disgusted face pressed between his shoulder blades.

“That’s right. He uses my soap.”

With an evil sounding laugh he releases Remus who runs over to an up the stairs quite as quickly as he can, smiling as he hears James’ indignant “Blimey, Sirius! That’s a Lily-Only zone!”

Honestly, he rather likes it on Sirius’ lap. His warmth is enveloping and his energy is infectious and…

Yeah. He really shouldn’t think about it.

So he makes his escape while Sirius makes his rounds, eliciting giggles and indignant yelps all the while.

But it’s not weird, it’s just what he’s known for:

Sirius kisses everyone.

* * *

Remus will never forget this: the rush—the absolute thrill of nearly getting caught and just _completely booking it_ to get away. His lungs are burning, his muscles are protesting, and the adrenaline is just _addictive._

Honestly, Remus doesn’t much care for pranking when they don’t get caught. It’s the difference between getting away with something and just _doing_ it: it’s not fun if it’s just doing it. He doesn’t even care if they make a clean getaway or if they end up with detention. He gets his jollies, either way.

Or maybe he just gets off on angry authority figures. That’s probably what Sirius would say.

Sirius, who is running ahead of him and laughing madly, to boot. James and Peter ran off in the other direction to divide their chances of getting caught.

Sirius loves getting caught, too. Loves the chase. Like tonight. Like this.

Because there are footsteps following them down the hall and angry hollers of “Get back here you hooligans!” and, seriously, who talks like that? But the person following them is too far away to be seen, must be around a corner, and Sirius has the presence of mind to open a random door in the hall and fly into it and Remus has the presence of mind to close the door softly enough that whoever’s following them (and Remus suspects that it’s Professor Slughorn) can’t hear it. Which is confirmed when the pattering of running-speed feet draws close to wherever it is they are and then goes rushing past.

Remus barely has time to allow himself a sigh of relief when he finds his back pressed against the wall (and something falls down but it just doesn’t seem important) and his front pressed against Sirius and warm mouths moving and not enough _air_ because they’ve just been running all-out and fingers tangled in hair and teeth clacking and _Merlin_ it’s _good_.

When they finally pull apart Remus knows that half of the saliva in his mouth really isn’t his and that’s just… something. And the sound of panting is pretty heavy because, yeah, they’re not running anymore, but come on.

And there’s just enough light to see the flash of white in Sirius’ smile before it’s on his mouth again.

Remus is going to blame this on adrenaline.

Because it isn’t just a Sirius-kisses-everyone thing. He has been on the receiving side of so many Sirius-kisses-everyone kisses to know that _this_ is not what they feel like.

And Remus isn’t special. He can’t let himself believe that he’s special because then it will mean so much more when the truth comes out, which it will. Because it always does, with Sirius. Not that he doesn’t know the truth already.

And the truth is that Sirius can’t mean this the way it feels like he does. And Remus _isn’t_ special.

And Sirius kisses _everyone._

* * *

Another night, another Gryffindor extravaganza, and Remus just doesn’t have the patience to deal with this, anymore. If he was bored with them before he certainly isn’t any more enthused now.

Not that this should be any different from any of the other dozens of nights that the famed Gryffindor debauchery has (quite loudly) taken to the Common Room.

He has already been prevented from escaping to the library six times. Once by James, twice by Peter, thrice by Sirius. But he doesn’t want to be here, and there’s really nothing preventing him from trying for a lucky seven.

It’s not like anything has changed. Sirius is exactly the same as he always has been and James and Peter are certainly none the wiser. But maybe that’s the problem. That Remus has changed and nothing else has.

Lucky seven is thwarted by James.

Remus has had quite enough.

So instead of trying to go straight to the library, he heads to their dorm with the intention of borrowing James’ invisibility cloak so that he can actually leave. But he finds that it’s hidden. James knows him far too well.

He gives the whole thing up as a bad job, flops face-down on his bed instead and tries to sleep. Unfruitful though the attempt proves to be.

There are few things noisier than a conglomeration of rowdy Gryffindors trying to out-Gryffindor each other just a flight of stairs away. Most of those things involve differing degrees of proximity to the World Quiddich Cup. It wouldn’t matter if he were James, who can sleep through _anything_ , or Peter, who can actually sleep with a pillow over his head. But he isn’t. He’s Remus. He has enough trouble falling asleep in the dead of night when it’s quiet and he’s exhausted.

So he can’t fall asleep and he can’t make it to the library. He could read in the dorm but, upon looking around, he finds that all the books are ones he’s already read. And didn’t like very much at that. He could try to find James’ cloak, but if James hid it then the chances are that he’ll never find it. He’s no Hufflepuff, and when James hides things, he hides them well. Of course he could go and join his partying housemates, but really that's the last thing he wants to do.

So he settles himself in his bed with a pen and some paper and dictates slowly as he writes himself a story for jollies because what else is he going to do?

“Once upon a time,” he begins, as all unimaginative stories must start with a once-upon-a-time. “There was a…” he balks. A what? “Uh… a boy. Who was… terrible at sleeping.”

He resists the urge to snigger to himself. What a beginning. “He tried everything. He…” what were some common sleep remedies? “He tried throwing himself into his chores so he’d be tired by bedtime. He tried drinking calming teas. He even,” he even what? “…tried counting backwards from a hundred thousand. But nothing worked. Nothing helped him get to sleep.

“That’s because the reason he couldn’t sleep wasn’t that he wasn’t tired. In fact, he could be falling over and completely unable to keep his eyes open until the very moment that he crawled into bed. And then sleep became nearly impossible.

“You see, the boy’s problem, his real problem, was that he would crawl into a cold bed, night after night, and all he could do was wish that it was warm. And he would see and feel all of the empty space surrounding him in his too-big bed that really wasn’t all that big. And he would wish that there was less space in which to contemplate his solitude.

“Because this boy was actually a wolf. Not a _dangerous_ wolf most of the time, but a wolf, nonetheless. And no one in their right mind would ever want to keep company with a wolf. So he resigned himself to a life without ever having a good night’s sleep.”

For a story that is supposed to be for his amusement, he isn’t very amused.

He is, however, surprised by the sudden appearance of Sirius crawling onto his bed.

“Except that, one day, the wolf, who was actually a boy, met a big shaggy dog, who was also actually a boy. And that boy, who was a dog, took it upon himself to fill up the empty spaces and warm up the cold bits and make sure that the wolf, who was actually a boy, was never lonely again.”

And suddenly there are arms around Remus’ middle, and a head nuzzling into the space between his shoulder and his neck, and a warm body making his bed seem like maybe it isn’t so big after all.

So Remus plants a kiss on top of his shaggy head.

And the arms clench tighter and the nuzzling gets closer, and the space that’s left seems to shrink, and that’s when it hits him.

Sure, Sirius kisses everyone. But maybe he’s really just been looking for someone who will kiss him first.

And maybe Remus can be special after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If this seems familiar to you, it's because it's also posted on fanfiction.net under my other pseudonym Promiscuous Misprocuous. I'm not stealing it, I promise :p
> 
> Also, I love feedback. If you have any criticism or even if you just liked the story, please tell me :)


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